“As much as I’m enjoying this, Agent Kaitlin Harrington, it’s not a very good idea.” Miguel had spoken perfect English, without a trace of a Hispanic accent.
“You speak English?” Kaitlin hated herself for not suspecting it. “You, son-of-a-bitch!”
“Sorry about meeting like this.” He pushed himself up, stood, and brushed the dust off the denim jacket. “I’m not the man you think I am.” He offered her a hand to get up.
“You are not Miguel?” Kaitlin refused his help and stood on her own.
What the hell was he talking about? Confused, Kaitlin didn’t understand.
“My name is Miguel Carrera, undercover FBI agent, born and raised in Los Angeles.” He searched her eyes for a sign of understanding. “I’ve infiltrated a coyote ring in a sting operation, and there is much more at stake here than just illegal immigration.”
“You said FBI? Sting operation?” How stupid of her for not figuring it out. Kaitlin should have known there was something odd about this coyote. “Why didn’t you let me know before?”
Miguel snorted. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance. And I could hardly tell you in front of the others.”
“If you are FBI, why didn’t you just arrest those guys?” It was a dumb question. She berated herself for losing her wits around Miguel.
He chuckled. “First, the illegals would probably lynch me if I arrested their guides, and second, the FBI wants these criminals alive if at all possible.”
“Why? So they can cut a deal and get away with a slap on the wrist?” Kaitlin knew better, but couldn’t help her sharp tongue.
“We are out to catch the largest smuggling operation along the border. I’m talking drugs, terrorists, illegal weapons. The FBI needs all the information they can get.” The intensity in his gaze told of his passion for his job.
It made sense, but Kaitlin didn’t like the idea of waiting. She wanted these bastards arrested now. She slapped gravel and dust from her pants. “What were you looking for in my Hummer?”
“I didn’t rush back here to make pleasant conversation.” He winked. “Although I did enjoy it…immensely.”